The Chronicles of Nora White
by 15Demigod15
Summary: Darkness and death - that was her life. Her legs felt like lead, but she couldn't stop. She had to keep going, for her brother, for all the dead ones... for herself. No affiliation with Heroes of Olympus or Kane Chronicles. Post The Last Olympian. *DISCLAIMER* Rick Riordan owns the Percy Jackson series nor Icy or I claim/or own ANYTHING. Except Nora. We own her.. xD
1. Red

**A/N This chapter is solely 'The Ice Within's' A.K.A. Icy's work, this whole chapter! I'm D, on to the story!**

_Prologue_

The prison was dark and silent- eerily so. The only sounds to be heard were the slight shuffling and clangs of metal against metal every now and then. The dim candlelights flickered slightly in their plates, giving just enough glow to allow you to see the ugliness and cruelty of the place.

The walls and floor of the prison was rough and cold, sharp edges of the stone jutted out of the walls, making sleep and comfort hard to come. Trickles of blood were seen everywhere, as if every single prisoner didn't give up before getting into a fight with the prison-keepers – and obviously they had lost badly. They were no matches to the carefully chosen, bulky men standing stiffly in front of every prison door, alert of their surroundings. Anyone found talking or trying to escape would be whipped mercilessly by the Keepers and thrown back into a cell with higher security and rougher surroundings. Everyone knew that there was no escape.

Those who went in never came out.

Screams pierced the village; sobs were heard from within the poor cottages, begging for mercy and yelling for help – but to no avail. Unknown to them, the Killers were merciless, some even said heartless – they left no survivors, and they never failed a given mission by their Boss – and this was no exception.

One by one, the villagers fell to the ground, dead. Their pale faces beamed in contrast with the dark, black cottages arranged in neat circles around the village. It was bloody; it was terrifying, yet the Killers' faces showed no emotion – there wasn't a sign of sympathy or kindness, but there wasn't any relief or triumph either. They didn't _feel_; they weren't humane, that was what was so scary about them – the lack of human characteristics from them. But Poker Face was bits of an understatement – do Poker Faces have the Death Glare? Or an Evil Aura that seems to surround it? No. But these Killers' faces were scarred and full of hatred, even though their faces were emotionless, you could see it through their dark eyes when they made eye contact – and that was what I saw.

Perhaps that second of understanding I got through the eye contact before the Killer lowered his knife saved my life.

That was five years ago; I was a young six-year-old then.

Chapter One, Red.

_Run_, she screamed to herself, _push away all the emotions, the longing, the nostalgia, the love, the grief and run. Run for my life._

She didn't feel the pain; she was hollow. She didn't feel the sadness; she was empty. She didn't regret leaving everything behind; it was her own choice. _Choice_, she laughed humorlessly, as if she had any. She didn't give herself time to think, to dwell on what she was doing. Her mom always told her to 'think before you act', but her mom wasn't here anymore – she's dead. All of them were – the father that she hated, the elder brother that disappeared when everything happened, and her loving mother who cared for her through all the years. All of them, dead… just _gone._

She told herself she didn't care, and perhaps she didn't. She was tired of hating her dad, tired of listening to her mom's constant rambling – she was _happy_ that they were gone… wasn't she?

She shook her head, shaking away all the thoughts that nagged her ever since she stepped into the endless forest. It was eerily silent in the forest; apart from the rustling of leaves and the sound of the breeze, all was quiet. Silence calmed her; she had always been a quiet girl. She never talked without being spoken to. She answered questions with the least words possible. Some would say she was ignorant and haughty, but people who understood her knew better. Her horrible family background and lost childhood was one of the many reasons that made her 'The Silent Child'.

The sun was setting, the soft golden rays fading as if a neon orange curtain was drawn over it. Dusk has come, and complete silence descended upon the forest. She sank to the ground heavily, feeling the pain in her back as she scraped the tree trunk. Rummaging in her bag for a rough blanket, she surveyed her surroundings.

The last rays of sunlight shone through the thick leaves of the Evergreens, lighting up various spots of the bare ground. Small animals scuttled back to their holes and hollows, getting ready to spend the night. All was normal – too normal, she thought as she pillowed her head on her bag.

She didn't want to sleep; she didn't want to face the nightmares that haunted her ever since she ran away from her village two days ago. But her eyelids were getting heavy, her body shutting down automatically. The horrors started immediately.

_Red, the color she hated so much._

_The first time she saw red was the day she realized how much her brother cared for her. Her abusive father sauntered through the cottage door, smelling of alcohol, making his way towards her. She was three years old; the automatic response every time her father was around her was to cower behind the old sofa, hiding her face in her hands._

_She was trembling, her body shaking with fear. She saw her father's evil grin as she peered over her small fingers and flinched._

_His raised fist, the dangerous glint in his eyes, her mom's empty room. Those were the things that were spread in front of her. Everything was still for a second too long – everything but the closing fist. She knew what was coming next, the unbearable pain in her body as the fist contacted her body._

_But that day, it never came._

_Instead, red erupted everywhere. It dyed the gray sofa red, and spotted the white walls. But the red didn't come from her. No, it didn't. Relief was her first feeling, and then came the pang of horror, of sadness and guilt._

_Her brother, Aegeus, crumpled in front her, blood spurting from his mouth and his left arm cradling his right. A sob escaped her lips as she crawled towards her brother. She touched his right arm gently, all the while saying 'sorry, sorry'._

_Her brother smiled softly at her, extending his good arm and brushing away the tears. She looked at her hands. They were stained with red._

_It was sticky. It was hot. It was ugly. It was too much._

_She didn't want to see red again._

She woke up with a gasp. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead. She shivered as she recalled her dream. She suddenly felt the tears that she had been holding back for days threatened to spill over. _No_, she scolded herself, _I would not cry. I would not think about him._

She was tired of feeling guilty, feeling sad, feeling pain and regret. She realized that she had been an idiot, waiting for her brother to save her that day when everyone died. She was disgusted with herself for being so dependent on her brother. She didn't want to feel all these anymore. So she shut those feelings away. She liked the way she felt now – numb, empty and hollow. It was the best feeling ever.

-Icy-

**A/N** **This wonderful piece of writing was from Icy! She is so talented and is helping me write this story. Check her out, she is great! What did you think? R&R! **

**P.S. We're not going to do any "10 reviews and you'll get a chapter" we do this for fun, we upload when we can, which will be often ^.^**

**-D**


	2. White With A Little Black

A/N Hey it's 15Demigod15, I'm the co-write of this story. Whelp, here we go!

**And hiyah! It's the_ice_within (Icy), I'm also the co-write of this story.**

**Before we get this chapter rolling we'd like to give a special shout out to our two reviewers **_Penelope Brewer _**and **_Anonymous,_** you guys have no idea how much those meant to us, no joke, that night I PMed Icy and we were flipping out for about 15 minutes, Penelope Brewer is a great author and person, I've gotten to know her and she really is kind. I'm not going to beg for reviews, also, if this story seems to be moving slowly (upload-ing wise) we're sorry, I'm now going into my third week of school, but I'm sick today, a plus and a.. not so plus? WELL we won't keep you much longer, Icy, hit the disclaimer! **

**Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns the PJO series, not us. But proudly we own NORA! ^.^**

_~She didn't want to feel all these anymore. So she shut those feelings away. She liked the way she felt now – numb, empty and hollow. It was the best feeling ever!_

**Chapter 2 – White With A Little Black**

She was wearing white, a sharp contrast with her waist-length black hair. She ran through the forest, her head bobbing in and out of the thick branches, her eyes momentarily blinded by the burst of light that shone through when the branches rattled. Nora had to keep pushing, to keep on going – there was only one thing she had to do. And that was to succeed.

Her rough skin was covered in a brown coat of dirt, her eyes narrowed into tiny slits of blue. Her legs, they were pushing, and pushing. Running, not one of her strong suits, but she didn't care. She barely cared about anything now. Aegeus – her brother. She knew she loved him… but to what cost? Does she want to keep on loving someone who would just bring her more pain? Her village was another one – "That's two," Nora racked her mind and searched for what else she cared about, or something she loathed. Nothing came to mind.

The woods were getting thicker, darker and surprisingly, louder. As the chirps of the forest birds faded into the background, she could hear the rush of the waterfall, the scrambling of the squirrels and rabbits squeezing their way back into their home.

She was looking around desperately for any sign of civilization. _Any_. But slowly, realization struck her – she wasn't going to find any human beings around here. The loneliness sunk in, Nora looked around the second time. This time, instead of finding possible threats, she looked for familiar surroundings. She wanted to get out of the forest as soon as possible.

"_Nora, come here! How was your first day of school?" The familiar tingle in Aegeus' voice soothed her._

_Her pace hastened distinctively as she got nearer to the front porch of her house._

"_It's fine. We played with crayons all day."_

Nora sunk down onto the ground and allowed the flashback take its uncontrollable course – weaving cruelly through her mind.

"_What a beautiful drawing, Nora! Is that flower for mommy?"_

_4-year-old Nora nodded happily, her black head bobbing up and down. She pulled her brother impatiently through the screen door, the familiar creek of the old dusty door followed with a slam. Aegeus walked into another room after putting Nora on the couch, passing her a box of crayons._

_She colored the flower orange – the color of the sunset, the color of her favorite fruit and the color of her brother's bed sheets._

_Suddenly, a howl of fear and angst rattled the household. Nora flinched; her small hands loosened her grip on the crayon, staining the couch with a streak of orange. Nora looked behind her slowly, and screamed._

_She saw a pool of orange and drips of blood mixed inside the mixture. It was the same color as her flower._

_The same color as the drugs that dripped out of the glass her mother was holding._

_That day, her mom died. Not because of overdose, but because of the poison inside the drugs._

_The poison her dad put in._

A sharp ice-cold breath brought her back into the real world. Planting her hands behind her and unfolding her now-long legs, she pushed herself off the hard bark of the oak tree she leaned on.

This place brought her too many bad memories – two in less than a day.

"I have to get out of here forever," she whispered.

She looked back one last time and then pushed herself in a full throttle, running and enjoying the numbness in her legs and heart.

For the first time since she left the village, a strong feeling coursed through her very body – anger.

She was angry towards her brother for leaving her with a horrible man and angry with her mother's murderer. She was angry, so angry.

Overcome with anger, Nora didn't see the stray root sticking out of the nearby tree, and she definitely didn't see the pond. But what she did see was white with a little black, fading and fading until… nothing.

**A/N Thanks for reading this far! Icy and I would both like to thank you for reading this! R&R..? -D**

**Sorry for the short-ness of the chapter, both of us are having hectic school days. Please review! -Icy-**


End file.
